


Care For

by lokiarrty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Caretaking, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokiarrty/pseuds/lokiarrty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes home to find Sherlock has come down with the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care For

John got back from work, taking off his coat and hanging it over his chair with a sigh. The flat was quiet in a way that it normally wasn‘t. Sherlock didn’t have a case so John was sure he would be moping around, or halfway into some ungodly experiment that would have the kitchen in a mess. But he was no where to be seen, or heard. John went up to their bedroom and open the door with a slow creak.

“Sherlock?” He said into the dark room. The shades were pulled closed and the only light that seeped in was from the doorway where John stood.

There was a human shaped lump under a pile of blankets that could only be Sherlock; John smiled, relieved that Sherlock had taken to sleeping instead of destroying the flat.

John striped off his shoes and jeans, climbed under the blankets with Sherlock. Sherlock spoke up before he could wrap his arm around his waist.

“Go away,” Sherlock croaked. His voice was rough and raspy.  
“You never want to cuddle,” John complained with a hint of humor in his voice and rolled onto his back, “I just wanted to take a nap”

“I’m not taking a nap,” Sherlock said turning around to face John.  
His nose was red and rough, his eyes were lazily opened and his cheeks were rosy.

“I’m sick,” He complained.

The back of John’s hand automatically went to Sherlock’s forehead, then flipped over cupping Sherlock’s cheek. He frowned.

“You’re burning up,” He said sitting up, “You need to get all these blankets off you.”

John pulled at the blankets but Sherlock gripped them and pulled his body tighter, his knees coming to his chest.  
“Sherlock, don’t act like that,” He said tugging at the blankets, “You need to cool off.”

“I’m cold,” Sherlock said, finally letting go of the blankets. John slipped the blankets to the bottom of the bed to reveal a naked Sherlock.

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes,” He said blushing.

“Because it was hot, and then it was cold and now I’m freezing. Can I have the blankets back?” Sherlock said reaching down and pulling the blankets up to cover his legs.

John grabbed the blanket back and pulled it away.

“No blankets,” He said sternly.

He walked over to the drawers and pulled out pants, a t-shirt, and pajama bottoms. He walked back over to the bed, and Sherlock was covered in the blanket again.

Without saying a word John pulled the blanket away again. He placed his hand on Sherlock’s arm and tugged him up. Sherlock sat up and rested his head on John’s shoulder.

“I’m cold John, can we cuddle now,” He said rubbing his face against John’s shoulder.

“No, but you can help me get your clothes on,” John said pushing Sherlock back slightly and slipping his head through the hole of the shirt.

Sherlock groaned in complaint, but worked to slip his arms into the shirt. He laid back on his back and John sucked in a breath at the sight of Sherlock naked from the waist down. He went to his feet and slipped his legs through the holes of his pants and pulled them up.

“Lift,” He said when he got to his waist. Sherlock pushed his hips up slightly and John slipped the rest of the pants into place.  
Next he scrunched the legs of the pajamas together so that he could place them on Sherlock easier. In very much the same way he put on his pants he put on Sherlock’s pajama bottoms.

“There, better?” John said patting Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock looked up at him with a frown.

“This is why I told you to go away,” His frown quirked up into a slight smile.

“I’m going to get you some water, and you’re going to drink it,” John said walking to the door. He stopped at the door’s threshold and turned to Sherlock, “And if you even think about putting those blanket on you again, I swear I’ll…I’ll force you to take a cold shower.”

Sherlock turned away from John with a groan.

John came back with medicine and a glass of water. He sat at the edge of the bed near Sherlock’s waist, placed the glass on the nightstand, and ran his hand through Sherlock’s sweat dampened hair.

“Sit up,” He said.

Sherlock sat up reluctantly and John grabbed both his and Sherlock’s pillow, propping them up behind Sherlock. Sherlock leaned back against them, his heavy eyes never leaving John’s face. John placed the pill in Sherlock’s mouth and grabbed the glass of water, pressing it to Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock pressed his mouth against it and swallowed the pill with the water when John tilted the cup up. He placed the cup back on the night stand and grabbed a tissue. He placed it to Sherlock’s reddened nose.

“Blow,” He said.

Sherlock’s smile was hidden from the tissue but he complied with John’s command.  
John folded the tissue and wiped Sherlock’s nose one more time before throwing it in the general direction of the trash bin.  
“What’s so funny?” John asked smiling back at Sherlock.

“I would rather you tell me to blow in a different context,” Sherlock said, his smile widening.  
John put the back of his hand to Sherlock’s forehead.

“I think your fever is worse than I thought. You’re delusional,” John said.

Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and placed his palm to his cheek. He leaned into the touch, his eyes falling closed beneath the warmth of John’s hand. John brushed his thumb over Sherlock’s cheek and brought his other hand up to cup the other side of Sherlock’s face, then pressed their foreheads together.

“How do you feel,” John asked.

“Weak,” Sherlock said his eyes still closed.

“What else,” John said searching Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock opened his eyes, meeting John’s. “I have the flu. I feel like a person who has the flu. Weakness, fatigue, fever, you know this John. No need to ask."

John laughed a little and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. It was short and when John pulled away he took his hands off of Sherlock’s cheeks as well.

John picked up the glass of water again holding it out to Sherlock.

“I want you to drink all of it,” He said.

“Aren’t you going to hold it for me,” Sherlock pouted.

John pushed the glass closer to Sherlock’s hand.

“Fine go and make your tea,” Sherlock frowned, picking the glass up.

“I knew you’d figure it out,” John mused.

He stood up, and flicked his eyes from the glass to Sherlock’s mouth, trying to convey to Sherlock that he wants him to drink it. Sherlock rolled his eyes and took a sip, swallowing loudly. John smiled as he walked out the door and to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for himself and Sherlock.

He walked back in the dim lit room to see the glass of water empty and Sherlock curled around himself facing the door. He opened his eyes to the sound of John entering the room.

“Are you still cold?” John asked placed both cups down on the nightstand.

“No, the medicine is already taking effect,” Sherlock said sitting up as John sat down.

“I made you a cup of tea,”

“I know,” Sherlock smiled.

John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, and pressed his palm to his forehead once again, his temperature noticeably lower than when he had first come home. Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips against John’s. John’s hand went to the back of Sherlock’s neck and his other hand to Sherlock’s shirt, pulling him in, and parting his lips to deepen the kiss. Sherlock leaned forward more, and pressed his body into John’s a slight moan exiting his lips.

“You’re going to get me sick,” John said, resting their foreheads together.

Sherlock smiled and pressed his lips against John’s again.

“You won’t… take care of me… like I do for you,” John said between kisses, “We can’t afford… for me to get sick… too.”  
John’s protests were contradicted when he pushed Sherlock down onto his back and pushed his hips forward, his forming erection rubbing against Sherlock’s thigh. He kissed at Sherlock’s neck while his hips moved back and forth against Sherlock, Sherlock moaning against him.

“Too many clothes,” John complained, pushing up at the hem of Sherlock’s shirt.

“It’s your fault,” Sherlock growled.

They slipped Sherlock’s shirt off and John’s lips trailed from his neck down to his right nipple, lightly sucking at it, while his left hand rubbed circles around the other one.

Sherlock moaned and arched into the touch. His legs wrapped around John’s body and pulled him in, rubbing his now fully hard erection against John’s stomach. He pulled at John’s shirt, tugging it over his head, and then John’s mouth was back to work on Sherlock.

He trailed his kisses back up and their lips met and their bodies aligned so that their erections were rubbing against each other, they both sighed against each other at the feeling.

“Turn over,” John said.

They both shifted their weight and soon Sherlock was lying on his stomach and John was pulled up at his hips so they were hovering over the mattress. John pulled at the waist band of Sherlock’s pajama bottoms and pulled both his pajamas and pants down and around Sherlock’s thighs in one go. Sherlock let out a moan when his cock was let out of its confines. He resisted the urge to grind against the mattress to relieve some of the pressure.

John pressed a kiss against Sherlock’s lower back then reached over to the night stand to grab a bottle of lubricant. He popped the cap open and covered his fingers in it, tossing the bottle to the side for later.

His traced his finger from the cleft of Sherlock’s arse, sending shivers down Sherlock’s back. When he reached Sherlock’s hole, he ran circles around it teasingly. Sherlock pushed back against it, craving more, and let out a complaining moan.

John leaned forward and pressed another kiss against the small of Sherlock’s back and pressed his finger in. Sherlock grabbed one of the pillows and wrapped his arms around it. John worked his finger in and out of Sherlock, stretching the hole slightly, until Sherlock was withering beneath him, begging for more. He placed another finger in, scissoring them to stretch him even more. He pushed his fingers in a little more and Sherlock pushed back against the touch, moaning into the pillow.  
“Again,” Sherlock groaned.

John repeated the motion, lightly brushing his fingers against Sherlock’s prostate, and Sherlock let out a breathy moan. John did it once more before he slipped his fingers out of Sherlock.

“Hurry,” Sherlock complained, he began rubbing himself against the mattress impatiently.

John pulled his pants down and grabbed the lube that had rolled to the side of Sherlock’s leg. He coated his palm with the it and rubbed his hand along his cock, brushing his thumb against the head to spread some of his precum around as well. He grabbed Sherlock’s hips and stilled them as he aligned his cock against Sherlock’s stretched hole. He pushed into Sherlock slightly, waiting for Sherlock to adjust to him.

“Move, please, oh god, John,” Sherlock said pushing his hips up more.

John leaned his body against Sherlock’s back, and pushed in further, then pulled back and pushed in harder.  
“Yes,” Sherlock’s voice was muffled by the pillow, and he gripped it harder, his head turning, and his mouth opening in pleasure.

John pushed in and out of Sherlock in a steady rhythm. He pulled Sherlock’s hips up just slightly and Sherlock yelled out in pleasure, the new position allowing John to hit Sherlock’s prostate.  
“Harder,” Sherlock yelled.

John pushed in harder then before and they both let out a cry of pleasure. John pushed in and out harder and harder, and soon there was a pressure building up.

“Oh god, Sherlock,” John moaned, his mouth brushed against Sherlock’s shoulder blade, as he pumped in and out of Sherlock.  
Sherlock reached down and grabbed his cock, pumping his hand at the same time that John was going in and out of him. His other hand gripped tightly at the pillow and his squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach began convulsing.  
“Sherlock… so tight. You’re,” John’s mouth went slack, and he could feel Sherlock’s arse getting tighter around his cock, as Sherlock let out a cry of pleasure and spilled into his palm and the mattress.

“Ah, Sherlock,” John cried as he was pushed over the edge by Sherlock’s climax. He rode out his orgasm before both of them collapsed, John resting on top of Sherlock.

“Do you think the tea is still hot?” Sherlock said lazily, the post orgasm glow still taking effect.

John laughed lightly before he pushed up and pulled himself out of Sherlock. He rolled onto his back and pulled his pants up from around his thighs.

“Who cares,” He said sitting up and grabbing a box of tissues from the nightstand. He cleaned up himself and Sherlock, smiling down at him, while Sherlock’s eyes began to drift closed. He pulled up his pants and pajamas, before planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to take a nap now,” Sherlock said with a soft smile, his eyes already closed.

“Me too,” John said laying down and wrapping his arms around Sherlock.

They both drifted off to sleep with John wrapped around Sherlock.

* * *

 

John woke up the next day with a headache and feeling like he had been hit by a truck. He groaned and looked over to where Sherlock had been when he fell asleep to see that he was alone in the bed. He ran his hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling. Sherlock had got him sick.

Five minutes later Sherlock entered the room with a glass of water and some medicine.

“Sit up,” Sherlock said. He looked far better than he had the night before.

John complied and looked up at him with a slight smile.

“Are you trying to take care of me?” He said, his smile growing bigger.

“I’m just doing what you would do for me,” Sherlock said. He placed the medicine in John’s mouth and the glass of water to his lips.


End file.
